


only a simple fool

by blamefincham



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 12:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3068864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blamefincham/pseuds/blamefincham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dex had been wishing that the universe would save them from this horribly awkward conversation, and as if it’s answering his prayers, Chowder’s garbage bag chooses that moment to split wide open.</p><p>“Oh—oh no,” Chowder says despairingly, sinking to his knees to start collecting the garbage. Dex joins him, but then he notices that everything he’s collecting is wrappers: takeaway containers, fast food bags, the occasional TV dinner box…</p><p>“Chowder, do you eat, like, any actual food?” Dex can’t stop himself from saying. </p><p>[au based on <a href="http://everbright-mourning.tumblr.com/post/104134856293/so-someone-write-me-that-fic-where-a-happily">this</a> post]</p>
            </blockquote>





	only a simple fool

**Author's Note:**

> To [Jenny](http://archiveofourown.org/users/teaboytoaliens), for dragging me into this fandom in the first place, and then for yelling at me in gdocs consistently enough that I wrote this faster than any fic I have ever written in my life. You're a beautiful ray of maple-scented sunshine and judgment. 
> 
> Title from "Take Care", by City and Colour.

“No, I was _not_ the last one to use the grater! When have I _ever_ grated cheese?” Dex insists, slamming cupboard doors.

“I had you do it last time, when we were making mac and cheese, remember?” says Nursey. He’s stirring the pot on the stove and frowning, but his voice is relaxed (like always) and his hand is in his pocket. 

As always, Dex’s irritation flares even further over the way Nursey stays so calm. “No, I _don’t_ remember—what _I_ remember is telling you today in the store that we should just shell out the extra _fifteen cents_ and buy cheese that was _already shredded_. Then we wouldn’t be having this argument.” 

That does get Nursey to turn away from the stove, if briefly, to deliver his favorite comeback: “Chill, Dex.” 

Dex huffs out a breath of air and snatches the beanie off Nursey’s head and puts it on himself, so he can cross his arms, slouch exaggeratedly against the fridge, and say “ _Chill_ ,” in the deepest voice he possibly can. 

There’s a long beat, and then they both burst out laughing. Nursey takes his beanie back, and while Dex is on his tiptoes trying to get it again, he spots the grater stashed away on the shelf above the stove, which is definitely not where it goes. 

He pulls the grater down, knocks Nursey in the head with it lightly, and starts grating the fucking cheese. Four years ago, a fight this stupid would have come to blows, or at least shoves. Three years ago, it would’ve been the silent treatment. 

Dex is glad they’ve learned how to bicker without really fighting, or this relationship would be truly dysfunctional. 

— 

Nursey and Dex have been living in this apartment since their junior year of college, so for over two years now. The complex is mostly full of students, but they don’t see any reason to move: it’s decently located, it’s cheap, and all their shit is here already. 

Because of the student population, most moving in and out happens in the summer. From May to August, there’s a truck parked outside every few weeks, and the dumpster is always full of cardboard boxes. 

November, though. November is a weird time to see a moving van around these parts. They’re on their way back from the Stop-n-Shop when Nursey jostles Dex’s arm with his shoulder and nods his head in the direction of the van. “Non-student tenant or dramatic mid-semester roommate breakup?” asks Nursey, transferring his bags from one hand to the other. 

“Non-student. If it was a roommate breakup, it’d be a bunch of shit tossed in the back of their friend’s friend’s sketchy brother’s pickup truck, not a moving van,” Dex points out. 

Nursey considers this. “Unless they’re loaded.” 

“If they’re loaded, why are they moving in here?” 

“Touché.” 

As if to make Dex’s point for him, the elevator’s broken again, which is annoying, but fortunate in that it means they notice the door to the floor below theirs has been propped open. Nursey and Dex share a glance, which is all it takes for them to mutually decide to be nosy neighbors and see who this new tenant is. 

There’s another door propped open, this one to an apartment directly below where Nursey and Dex’s is on the floor above. A voice is drifting out: “ _Mom_ , I don’t—I’m sorry, Mom, I don’t want to argue, I’m sorry, but I can put away my towels myself! You can go take the van back so we don’t get charged for another day, I know it’s expensive!” Nursey looks at Dex again; Dex can tell by the way he’s raising his eyebrows that he’s doubting Dex’s theory that this is someone old enough to not be in college. 

Before Dex can get irritated over that and start thinking of ways to argue about something Nursey hasn’t actually said, a woman exits the apartment, and when she sees them, her expression lights up. “Oh, do the two of you live here?” she asks, beaming. Without actually giving them a chance to answer, she barrels on: “My son, Chris, is new to the area, and you boys look to be about his age! Chris, come out and meet some of your neighbors!” 

When Chris doesn’t emerge immediately, she tuts under her breath, then turns her smile up again and refocuses on Dex and Nursey. “I’m sure he’ll be out in a second. Moving is crazy, you know how it is! But where are my manners—my name is Kate Chow, and you two are?” 

In most social situations, Nursey is superior, but Dex has always been great at talking to adults, so he pastes on a smile and takes charge. “I’m Will, and this is Derek, we live upstairs.” It sometimes still feels weird to use their real names; Dex met Nursey on the hockey team in college, and they still call each other by their hockey nicknames more often than not. 

Fortunately, before the stilted conversation can continue, Chris emerges from the apartment. Kate is right, he does look to be about their age—and yet somehow much younger, but that’s probably the ridiculously oversized hoodie he’s wearing. He has to push his sleeve up so he can shake their hands, which he does with the slightly awkward air of someone who doesn’t feel like they’re old enough to be shaking hands with anyone. Dex knows it well. 

It turns out that Chris is actually exactly their age. He’s just graduated college (he lived at home while he was in school, Kate tells them, and this is his first time living on his own—Dex can’t resist shooting Nursey a triumphant glance, which is mostly ignored), he’s from San José, and although he seems like a nice guy, it’s inherently awkward to have someone’s mom trying to play friendship matchmaker. When there’s a lull in the conversation, Dex seizes the opportunity to point out that he and Nursey need to go put their groceries away. 

He does feel a bit bad, though, leaving Chris alone, and he resolves to actually try to be friendly with him if he bumps into the kid without his mom as a buffer. 

— 

It doesn’t take long. Less than a week later, Dex is taking his trash out to the dumpster and sees Chris doing the same. Rather than following the standard apartment etiquette of lining up behind him and pretending to be absorbed in his phone until it’s his turn, Dex goes over to say hello instead. 

It’s weird, maybe, that the first thing Dex notices is that Chris is wearing the same hoodie as the last time he saw him. Dex is _from_ New England, he knows winter, and even he’s wearing a coat and a hat today. It occurs to him that maybe Chris doesn’t own a coat, though why he wouldn’t have bought one when moving to Massachusetts in November, Dex has no idea. He taps him on the shoulder with his free hand. 

“Hey, Chris. Settling in okay?” That’s an awkward question, Dex thinks; he’s gotten used to Nursey handling small talk, and he’s never been good at it with people his own age. 

But Chris doesn’t seem to have noticed, because he lights up with a huge, brilliant grin. For all Dex has been thinking of him as ‘the kid’, he’s kind of breathtakingly attractive when he smiles like that. Huh. “Hi! Yeah, I guess I am, er, does it normally get this cold in November? I’ve never lived any place where it got this cold or—or snowed, I mean I’ve _seen_ snow before on vacation and stuff and obviously ice rinks are kind of the same idea, but not really the same, you know?” 

Without his mom here, Chris talks incredibly fast. Dex blinks, reeling a bit as he tries to process all that information, which is apparently enough of a pause for Chris to realize he’s rambling. So naturally, he rambles more. “Sorry, sometimes I kind of just, you know, talk when I’m nervous, not that I’m really nervous, it’s just that I just moved here and haven’t really talked to anybody outside of work, and er—sorry, I just want to make sure, your name is Will, right?” 

That’s a question Dex can handle. “It’s fine, don’t apologize. I know how you feel, I didn’t know anybody when I went to college and I spent the first month only talking to my roommate—it’s normal.” He offers a smile that is supposed to be encouraging but probably looks more like a grimace. He’s _trying_ , okay. Dex has been where Chris is, alone in a strange city without the social graces to smooth things over, so he wants to pay forward the kindness he’d received back then. “And yeah—but you can call me Dex, all my friends do.” 

At the word ‘friend’, Chris’ smile is back at full wattage. “Then you can call me Chowder! That’s what all my friends call me, or at least, the ones from my hockey team back home.” 

_Hockey_. That’s safe ground; Dex can work with that. “You play hockey? So do Nursey and I—my boyfriend, that’s how we met.” Chris’—Chowder’s—non-reaction is proof enough for Dex that he’s not a bigoted asshole, so he keeps talking. “What position?” 

“Goalie! I really love it, I might try to join a rec league out here, or something. I actually thought of going to school out here because the teams are more competitive, but it was just so much cheaper to live at home, you know?” He stops, and his expression goes serious so suddenly that it looks like a cloud has passed over the sun. “Wait… your boyfriend… is that the guy you live with?” 

Confused and slightly wary, Dex nods. Chowder’s face is so expressive, it’s as if it comes with a running caption; Dex would describe his current look as ‘awkward yet determined’. “It’s just—I’m sure it’s none of my business, sorry, sorry, but I—I accidentally heard you guys arguing last night?” 

Dex scratches the back of his neck. They’re used to the apartment below them being empty, they live on the top floor, and their next-door neighbor listens to music at all hours, so they don’t normally have to be quiet. He lifts his head to apologize, and promise they’ll keep it down, but then Chowder gasps. 

“I—I, um.” Chowder reaches out with his free hand and sets it on Dex’s wrist. “I don’t want to like, push, or intrude, I’m so sorry, but um, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here, and…” Chowder is not looking at Dex’s eyes, but at his left ear, and this all seems very strange until Dex remembers what happened at work yesterday. 

“Oh, Chowder, man, no, I—I banged my head at work. I was trying to get under a desk to fix this computer in a weird spot, and I slipped,” he explains, but Chowder still looks extremely concerned. It’s the truth, but Dex supposes it does sound like an elaborate excuse. 

“O-okay, but, I just…if, you know, the next time, you bang your head at work, or fall down the stairs or whatever, I have, you know, frozen peas in my apartment and stuff, and I have a phone so we can call somebody, if you want to, and—” Dex had been wishing that the universe would save them from this horribly awkward conversation, and as if it’s answering his prayers, Chowder’s garbage bag chooses that moment to split wide open. 

“Oh—oh no,” Chowder says despairingly, sinking to his knees to start collecting the garbage. Dex joins him, but then he notices that everything he’s collecting is wrappers: takeaway containers, fast food bags, the occasional TV dinner box… 

“Chowder, do you eat, like, any actual food?” Dex can’t stop himself from saying. He sounds like his mom. His ears flush, but Chowder looks abashed, not offended. 

“I—I bought some apples at the store last week? But I mean, it was sort of, like, I didn’t want to get scurvy, so I knew I needed to buy _some_ fruit, but I forgot I don’t really like apples, so I took them to the break room at work…” Chowder is rambling on like it’s totally normal to have a near-complete stranger interrogate you about your eating habits. But then, he also expressed concern that Dex may be being abused, so perhaps his boundaries are looser than most people’s. 

Speaking of, Dex should probably clear that up. He gathers up the last of Chowder’s trash and throws it directly in the dumpster rather than trying to fight with the split trash bag. “Okay, two things. One, you really need to eat like, fruits and vegetables and shit. Not to be your mom or anything, but as your friend, if you keep eating all this fast food and nothing else you’ll get sick. And two—it’s sw—er, it’s nice of you to be concerned, but I really did hit my jaw at work. I know it’s a suspicious-looking bruise, but Nursey would never hit me, not without me hitting him back and it turning into a wrestling match.” 

Now he feels like he’s rambling, and Chowder doesn’t look convinced. Great. The last thing he needs is the cops getting called on him and Nursey fighting (again). Dex wipes a gloved hand over his face. “Okay, look—give me your phone, and I’ll give you mine, and we’ll trade numbers. You can call me if we’re getting too loud, and we’ll shut up, and I’ll have your number, so you don’t have to worry. All right?” 

That seems to do the trick, at least well enough for Chowder to stop frowning so deeply. They trade phones, trade numbers, and then Dex tosses his bag in the dumpster. Chowder waits for him while he does it, but Dex notices he’s shivering. The cold must be getting to him, but he’s not complaining. 

— 

Because it’s not the first time someone has insinuated that Dex and Nursey’s relationship is less than healthy, Dex feels comfortable (if slightly guilty) tossing it into conversation almost as a joke. When he and Nursey are watching TV on the couch, curled up and relaxed, he toes Nursey in the stomach and says, “So our new neighbor offered to call the cops on you for me today.” 

Nursey raises an eyebrow. “Were we being _that_ loud?” 

“Well, yeah, that and—” Dex angles his head to indicate his bruise. Nursey makes an understanding _ahhh_ sound. “Nice kid, though. I ran into him at the dumpster, I think he was gonna offer to defend me with a hockey stick—former goalie, by the way—but then his trash bag split and stopped that conversation in its tracks, thank god. Looked like the poor guy is trying to survive on fast food and frozen meals.” 

Nursey considers this for a moment, tossing the remote between his hands. “Did he tell you his nickname?” 

“Yeah, Chowder. Makes sense.” 

That gets a slow grin. “Feel like clams, Dex?” 

Dex kicks Nursey in the stomach again, still gently but a lot less so than last time. “Are you seriously suggesting we invite our neighbor over for dinner themed around his hockey nickname?” 

Nursey is already off the couch and rifling through the cupboards. “It’ll make him feel welcome, give him something decent to eat, and probably help convince him I’m not dangerous. Where’s the flaw?” 

There isn’t one, but that doesn’t stop Dex muttering “The flaw is that it’s _stupid_ ,” under his breath as he folds up the blanket from the couch and texts Chowder to invite him over. 

— 

Dex’s first thought upon answering the door is that Chowder’s mom would be proud—he’s dressed nicely for dinner, in a sweater that brings out the color of his eyes and, Dex feels guilty for noticing, a pair of jeans that really accentuate his hockey butt. Not only that, but he’s come with wine—a box of wine, admittedly, but it’s unopened, and Dex is still close enough to college to happily accept liquor in any form. 

“Do you want me to take my shoes off?” Chowder asks as Dex ushers him in. 

“Nah, man, with our carpet, you probably shouldn’t. I doubt it’s been cleaned in any of our lifetimes,” says Nursey from the stove, where he’s watching the lowercase-c chowder. Chowder laughs at this and sets his box of wine down on the counter. Dex considers that laugh a win, although he doubts it’s necessary to keep score; once Chowder spends about five minutes in Nursey’s company, he’ll see he’s way too _chill_ to hit anyone, _like,_ ever _, man_ (not that he and Dex have _never_ come to blows, but that was before they were dating, so technically it doesn’t count, and anyway, neither of them could throw a punch well enough to leave any lasting damage). 

Once Chowder sets down the box of wine, he’s got nothing to do with his hands and immediately looks a bit lost. Dex notices this with that same weird swoop of protectiveness he felt out by the dumpster. “Chowder, would you mind setting the table?” 

Given purpose, Chowder’s gorgeous megawatt smile is back, which makes Dex feel warm in a way he normally associates with Nursey. That’s even weirder than the protectiveness, but he pushes that thought aside in favor of giving Chowder directions to their silverware, plates, and bowls. He also files away the observation that Nursey turns around from the stove to check out Chowder’s ass while he’s setting the table— _twice_. It’s probably nothing. They are really great jeans. 

The conversation flows more easily once they’re all sat down at the table. The food means everyone’s got something to do with their mouth when they can’t think of anything to say, and Nursey glosses over any awkward patches, asking Chowder questions about college and his life that would have sounded grandfatherly coming from Dex. Although one of the evening’s goals was to prove to Chowder that Nursey is stable and likeable, Dex can’t resist jumping in here and there to share the odd embarrassing story, just to make sure Chowder doesn’t think he’s _actually_ as cool as he pretends to be. 

They all do the dishes together: what is normally a two person job effortlessly shifts to three, with Chowder fetching and scraping off plates, Dex washing, and Nursey drying and putting away. When Chowder fills a tupperware with the leftovers and asks where it goes, Dex doesn’t even bother looking to Nursey before he says, “That goes home with you, bro.” 

“Really?” says Chowder, holding the repurposed butter container in both hands and looking a bit like a kid on Christmas morning. “I—I mean, it was so good, _so_ so good, but you guys already made me dinner, and—” 

“And you brought wine. Seriously, take it,” Nursey insists. 

Chowder nods, and sets the tupperware on the counter, a small, almost sheepish smile on his face. “It really was really good. I—I mean, I feel like such a pathetic excuse for an adult, you guys can make a meal like that and since I left home I’ve been living on already prepared stuff, and I thought it was okay, but maybe I just forgot what actual food tastes like…” 

“We know,” Dex reminds him. “It just takes time. Nursey and I have been living here for two years, which is long enough that we’ve got some of this stuff figured out, but we definitely didn’t when we first moved in.” 

“And in the mean time, we don’t mind having you over whenever. Keeps us on our best behavior, and besides, you’re pretty good company,” Nursey teases, bumping his hip into Chowder’s as he passes him to put the glasses away. Dex raises an eyebrow; that’s definitely a more affectionate gesture than Nursey would ordinarily allow someone he’s just met. 

— 

Dex doesn’t want to overwhelm Chowder or push too hard, so he resolves to let a few days go by and see if Chowder feels comfortable approaching them. As it happens, he doesn’t even have to wait that long: two days later, a lazy Saturday afternoon, there’s a frantic knock on their door. 

It’s Chowder, wearing seasonally inappropriate basketball shorts and a tank top. He’s also wearing a great deal of suds and a terrified expression, which Dex would bet are related. The minute the door is open, he starts talking: “Sorry sorry, I’m so sorry to interrupt but, um, I think I’m having a crisis? I ran out of clothes and needed to do laundry, but I think I maybe possibly put too much detergent in because there’s foam _everywhere_ , oh God, please help, I’m sorry!” 

Nursey appears behind Dex at some point in this diatribe, and once Chowder pauses for breath, he reaches over Dex’s shoulder to lay a hand on Chowder’s arm. “Chowder, man— _chill_. That was four sorrys in under a minute.” 

Being told to chill has never, once, in five years, made Dex anything but more irritated, but it seems to actually help Chowder. He visibly tries to do what Nursey asks by closing his eyes and taking a couple deep breaths. Eyes still closed, he says, “I’d apologize for apologizing so much, but then I think we’d be caught in a black hole of sorrys and never get out, and the laundry room is still covered in bubbles.” 

Dex fights down the sudden, mad urge to hug Chowder until he stops freaking out, and instead takes charge. “Right, okay, let’s do something about that. About face, Chowder!” 

— 

With three people, mopping up the laundry room and rewashing Chowder’s clothes (this time with an appropriate amount of detergent) is only the work of an hour, including the time it takes them to have a bubble fight and teach Chowder how to press his shirts. 

After that (and after about fifty reassurances that they weren’t doing anything and he’s not a burden), Chowder seems to get more comfortable with asking them for favors. Next week, he gets his window stuck open while Dex is at work, and Nursey helps him get it closed with the judicious application of a hairdryer. Two days later, Dex fixes his microwave (“I didn’t know you couldn’t microwave tinfoil!”), and it’s that that leads Nursey to remark, “Maybe you should just stay in our sight all the time, Chow, keep you out of trouble.” 

Chowder seems to have taken that literally, because he’s been more or less living on their couch ever since. A few hours into the first evening, during a lull in the conversation, Chowder admits, “Okay, full disclosure: I’m bored and you’re my only friends here, I—I’m sorry if this is awkward, or if I’m annoying you, please tell me and I can just go.” A few more reassurances help him stop apologizing for that too, and now he’s just appearing at their door each evening with increasingly bizarre host gifts (Dex thinks they should tell him it’s not necessary, but Nursey is holding out for a rubber duck). 

Thus far, he’s made it back to his own apartment to sleep, but today breaks that streak: Chowder told them he had a long day at work, he was fairly quiet all through dinner, and not fifteen minutes after they finish cleaning up, he’s snoring softly on the couch. Dex catches Nursey looking at him with an almost disturbingly soft expression on his face, which is when he decides they really need to talk about this. 

The benefit of entering into a relationship after hating one another for almost two years is that they are extremely good at communication; there’s no talking around things or being vague to save someone’s feelings. They’ve made mistakes and done stupid things, but very few of them have been a result of not using their words, and Dex is proud of that. He’s not interested in breaking that streak, especially not when he has a pretty good idea that he and Nursey are on the same page about this. 

Not tonight, though. Tonight, Dex is tired, and tomorrow is Saturday, which means plenty of time for talking. So for tonight, he bumps Nursey’s hip with his own and says, “That couch is fucking awful to sleep on. Why don’t we just share with him?” Nursey looks at him, uncharacteristically serious. Dex can see what he’s thinking, and he shrugs a shoulder. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.” 

Apparently that’s good enough, because Nursey nods a couple times, thoughtfully, and then says, “You get his legs, I’ll get his shoulders?” 

They don’t even have to ask each other about putting him in the middle of the bed and taking their usual places on either side of him. They’re pretty good at communicating without words, too. 

— 

Nursey wakes up first, which Dex knows because Nursey wakes him up by reaching an arm over Chowder and flicking Dex in the head. He rubs his forehead and makes a rude hand gesture at a quietly laughing Nursey, but then they both get up, manoeuvring carefully so as not to disturb Chowder. 

Nursey puts the coffee on, but when Dex moves to start making breakfast, Nursey stops him. “Let’s talk first, in case he wakes up.” Dex nods, but doesn’t say anything until they both have coffee in front of them, at which point there’s a clear and deliberate pause. 

Despite their superior communication prowess, it is, Dex must admit, somewhat awkward. No amount of fighting with Nursey has prepared him to broach the topic of a threesome. 

Nursey breaks first, makes eye contact with Dex, and says, “So. I think we’re on the same page here, but stop me if I say something you don’t agree with.” Well, that’s generous of him. All Dex has to do is nod or object loudly if something’s not right, which he would do anyway. He curls his ankle around Nursey’s under the table, and Nursey smiles. 

“So. Chowder. We both like having him around.” He pauses, to allow Dex to interrupt, but Dex just nods. “We’re both attracted to him,” Nursey continues. Dex flushes to the tips of his ears, but he doesn’t interrupt. “Mentally and physically?” 

The rising inflection he uses there (slight, so slight, but Dex has been listening to Nursey talk for years and can differentiate between all his nearly-identical monotones) makes Dex feels like he needs to comment, so he mutters, “He’s so sweet. And that _smile_.” 

“Is that a disagreement, or are you just emphasizing?” 

“Emphasizing. Go on.” 

Nursey nods and passes his coffee cup from one hand to another. “And we both want to do something about it.” Dex’s flush is still firmly in place, but he says nothing to correct or amend Nursey’s statement. Nursey shifts his coffee cup between his hands again, once, twice. The moment hangs between them. 

Finally, Nursey sighs. “Okay. All right, good. Are we talking, like, a one-time threesome, or something more long-term?” 

Dex looks up from where he’s been studiously inspecting a knot of wood in the table. “I thought you were saying things and I was agreeing or disagreeing.” 

Nursey laughs, but it’s not unkind. “Your turn.” 

Dex kind of wants to stomp his foot and get into an argument about it, but he doesn’t want to wake Chowder, and also, it’s not unfair. He hides his face in his hands when he says, “I don’t know, for sure, but I think probably the second one.” 

Nursey laughs at him again, slightly more unkindly, but he also reaches out to touch Dex’s elbow. “I’m thinking probably the same thing. We’re good, Dex, you can come out now.” Dex moves his hands long enough to make a face at Nursey, which Nursey takes advantage of by leaning over the table to kiss him, quick and sweet. 

Though the discussion was a mildly excruciating process, by the time they break apart, Dex feels better. He had a pretty good idea that he and Nursey were feeling the same on this, but it’s good to have it out in the open. “Okay. Okay. Let’s make breakfast, and once Chowder’s up and we’ve all eaten, we’ll talk to him about it.” 

Dex half-expects Chowder to have been standing behind him for the last ten minutes, but he isn’t. He actually gets woken up by the smell of bacon; it’s half-cooked when he wanders into the kitchen with improbably attractive bedhead and a guilty expression. “Guys, I’m sorry for falling asleep, you didn’t have to let me stay—and in your bed too, you’re—” 

“It was more for our benefit than yours, Chowder,” says Dex flippantly as he pokes at the eggs with his spatula. 

“Yeah, you’re a perfect buffer for Dex’s cold feet.” 

“And Nursey’s snoring sounds way quieter with you in between us.” 

Chowder glances between them for a minute, trying to work out how much they’re joking, but then he smirks, honestly smirks, and says, “Well...well, in that case, you’re welcome.” 

If Dex thought Chowder’s smile was hot, his smirk is a whole other level. He laughs, but then turns around to focus very intensely on the eggs, lest his body do something embarrassing without his permission before they have a chance to have a nice adult conversation about their feelings. He hears Nursey say, “Look who’s learning how to chirp!” behind him, and knows he’s ruffling Chowder’s hair as he says it. 

— 

After breakfast, they fall wordlessly into their after-dinner dishwashing routine. Dex is starting to worry about how they’re going to talk to Chowder about this, and as he nervously turns over various scenarios in his head, he drops a plate. Nursey catches it, though, and raises his eyebrows at Dex. 

Dex can _hear_ the ‘chill, Dex’ even though Nursey doesn’t say it out loud, and he steps on Nursey’s foot perhaps a bit harder than was necessary. 

Chowder may not have noticed the slip, but he notices the foot stomp, and he asks tentatively, “Everything okay?” 

“Yep, Nursey’s just being an asshole,” says Dex, high pitched and almost sing-song. Chowder does not look convinced. 

— 

Once they’re done with the dishes, they retire to the couch. It’s natural, already, for Chowder to sit between Nursey and Dex, natural for Nursey to toss his legs over the other two and Dex to get a blanket out while Chowder tells them a hilarious story about his week. It’s comfortable, routine, and Dex is loathe to break the pattern with a Serious Discussion of the sort they really need to be having. 

Nursey notices, probably because Dex is very interested in his phone all of a sudden, and although he toes Dex in the thigh, he does take pity on him and start the ball rolling once Chowder finishes his story. “So, Chowder.” 

Chowder turns to smile at Nursey. “Yeah?” 

“Dex and I have a...proposition for you.” 

Dex shifts, already a bit uncomfortable. He’s up for this, it sounds like a fantastic idea, it’s just that all this discussion is so _awkward_. “Should we really be talking about this while cuddling on the couch?” 

That was maybe the wrong thing to say, because he can feel Chowder’s posture stiffen, and Nursey pokes him in the leg again. “So Dex and I talked this morning, and…” Nursey trails off, nodding at Dex to continue. 

At that, Dex sets his phone down and openly glares at Nursey. “Really. That’s really where you’re gonna pass the conversational baton to me? _Really_.” Nursey’s smiling beatifically, but keeping his lips firmly closed, and Chowder is starting to look truly worried, so Dex sighs long-sufferingly and says, “Okay, just. This is just going to be awkward, and there’s no way to say it that’s not awkward that I know of, so I’m just going to say it and we’re all going to wish Nursey had not decided to be a jackass here because he’s the only one of us with social skills, but you know, whatever. Whatever!” He takes a deep, steadying breath. “We talked this morning and we basically agreed that we like you in a way that’s not just platonic, and we’d be interested in trying something out with you, if you’re also interested in us.” 

Chowder’s face goes through several fascinating expressions extremely quickly, from shock to something with a bit of a flush that looks like pleasure (Dex is _definitely_ interested in seeing that expression again) before eventually settling on doubt. He picks at the edge of his thumb for a few seconds before speaking. “I mean, that’s—you guys are, obviously so, you know, but I—I don’t want to like, get in the middle of your relationship? You know I’m kinda lonely here, and—I’m sorry you always have to end up taking care of me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to, I…” 

He trails off. Dex is trying very hard to find sense in that sentence and not having much luck. Nursey seems to have caught a bit of meaning, though, because he shakes his head and sets a hand on Chowder’s shoulder. 

“It’s not about taking care of you, man, this isn’t—like, a pity thing, or something.” 

Is that what he was dancing around? Dex frowns. “No, this is way more selfish than that. Have you seen yourself, Chowder?” 

Now Chowder is really blushing. He doesn’t look at either of them, he just studies the blanket. Dex can feel himself getting frustrated. He doesn’t know how to show Chowder that they sincerely mean what they’re offering; Dex gets mentally stuck in awkward situations and has little to offer beyond repeating himself at a louder volume. 

But Nursey knows what to do, as ever, because he says, “Chow, why don’t you stop worrying about everything spinning around in that head of yours and” —Dex waits for him to say ‘chill’— “I don’t know, tell us how you feel instead of trying to figure out what you’re supposed to say or what we want you to say?” 

Dex jumps in, eager to try and take away some of the pressure Chowder’s feeling. “Yeah, whatever you say is fine—you won’t hurt our feelings if it’s no, and nothing has to change. We just wanted to put it out there in case it was a yes.” 

It’s another long few moments before Chowder speaks, long enough for Dex to think about all the ways in which this was a terrible idea they never should have even considered. When he does speak, it’s quiet—objectively quiet, not just quiet for Chowder. “I...yeah. I wasn’t gonna say anything about it, because you guys are a couple already, but I mean...you’re both so great.” 

There’s a momentary pause while those words hang in the air and everyone processes what that means, but Dex is just that little bit quicker and more petty, and he calls out, “Dibs!” before leaning over to kiss Chowder on the lips.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on the tumbls at [blamefincham](http://blamefincham.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> If you found and read this because you subscribed to me for another fandom, check out the [comic](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/)!


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